


Ego Te Volo

by allonsytastic



Series: Lost in Translation [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 05:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10565046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsytastic/pseuds/allonsytastic
Summary: Three words, (approximately) eight letters. You know the drill.





	

It's an odd thing, being in love with a time lord. Or maybe it's just an odd thing being in love with the Doctor. _Maybe_ it's just his very own brand of weirdness that's continuously complicating matters.

At times, he can be positively flirty _(to the point where Clara has to pinch herself in the arm to ensure that she hasn't slipped into a hallucinatory fever-induced dream state, and that he is indeed throwing her a suggestive glance as he's fighting off a rudely-shaped alien nemesis)_. And then there are moments when he's as oblivious as a deep-sea cucumber.

Some days Clara feels like she's caught in a sort of groundhog-day-style time loop with their relationship status resetting - or rather switching - in irregular intervals. You just never know what you're going to get with him, day after day.

She really does _try_ to make sense of it, but it's not like there's a lot of information for her to go on, concerning 'dating advice for Gallifreyans'. There's Missy, of course- but judging from past experiences, Clara suspects that _her_ idea of a perfect date includes some kind of genocidal trap - which is _somewhat_ out of Clara's comfort zone.

 

This whole situation is really quite unnerving, and so - after a busy day fighting baddies and saving a planet _(along with its two moons)_ from plunging into a black hole - Clara concludes that _enough is enough_ and that there's _no point in waiting any longer._ Knowing the Doctor, it might take him another regeneration _(or two)_ to make a move - if he's even aware of the gallimaufry of mixed signals he's sending. And anyway - if there's something Clara's good at, it is taking chances.

Which is why she's going to tell the Doctor that she loves him. _Right now. Absolutely. Definitely. For real this time._

Three little words - how hard could it possibly be?

Walking up to the console room - her hands balled into fists, the tips of her fingers tingling as tension spreads out across her entire body - Clara finds herself caught somewhere between anticipation and sheer horror. She's laid out a monologue, a finely tuned, refined speech leading up to her avowal of everlasting affection - but when she finally makes it to the central column panel, she can't remember any of it.

_"Um. Doctor? I think I love you."_ It's less than ideal, but actually admitting it out loud is rather freeing.

 

The Doctor looks up at her - startled, blinking, processing, and - completely motionless. His features are frozen - his mouth slightly ajar, his brows raised to a point about halfway up his forehead in an expression of complete and utter astonishment. He doesn't really do _anything_ for a couple of seconds, and Clara is beginning to wonder whether she managed to accidentally overload his elsewise capable time lord mind with her sudden confession.

_Is there such a thing as shock-induced regeneration?_

  

When the Doctor eventually composes himself to an extent that allows him to join the conversation _(slowly bringing up one of his hands to pensively scratch his head and furrowing his brow while still retaining eye contact with Clara)_ , he barely manages to form a coherent sequence of words.

_"Clara, I think there's some sort of... glitch... in the TARDIS' translation matrix. She must be... mistranslating."_

_Well that's not the response Clara was going for._

 

Before she has any chance to elaborate on her statement, the Doctor takes a few quick steps around the console and starts hastily sonicking various bits and pieces along the lower panels. He's making a conscious effort to look busy - averting his gaze and muttering to himself as he's flicking random switches - but this course of action doesn't even begin to mask his nervousness. Clara knows him well enough to grasp the situation: He's trying to hold up the pretense of a hardened, detached professional in an attempt to shield himself. He's not letting himself trust, wary of lowering his defenses and revealing his innermost core in fear of being rejected for his true self. She has long since realized that this regeneration is more predisposed to hearbreak than any of his previous incarnations.

 

_"Doctor,_ _it's not the TARDIS. And I really **do** love you, by the way. Just putting that out there."_

There's no reply, just the sound of his fingers tapping away on one of the console screens as he frantically checks the TARDIS' database in a futile attempt to keep himself occupied. Clara perseveres, affirming her declaration.

_"Doctor. **I love you.** Je t'aime, Ich liebe dich, Te amo, Je elsker deg, Ego te volo!"_ (Hang on, that last one wasn't right, was it? - Nevermind.)

The Doctor still doesn't respond, instead fumbling around with a row of multicoloured switches right next to the telepathic circuit - his fingers visibly trembling as he's obviously having a hard time forcing himself not to react to the words he seems to have deemed a result of his wishful thinking.

 

Oh sod it. This isn't going to do.

Clara grabs him by the lapels - deftly dragging him down while getting up on her toes so that they're at the same height - and firmly plants her lips onto his. It's a _bit_ rough, but as first kisses go, it's still pretty much amazing. There's really not much room for misinterpretation now.

The Doctor stills at her touch and cautiously allows himself to return the gesture, his hands tentatively settling on Clara's waist as he slowly draws her closer to him.

_"'Ego te volo', too, Clara Oswald."_


End file.
